The Ceremony
by Glass Houses
Summary: Qui-Gon cares for his Padawan after the Battle of Naboo


The Ceremony by Glass Houses 

Catagory: POV, Angst, Drama, AU  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Feedback: yes, please (ghouses@yahoo.com)  
Summary: Qui-Gon cares for his Padawan after the Battle of Naboo.  
Disclaimer: "This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Lucasfilm, Ltd. No money is being made and no infringement is intended." That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  
Notes: _indicates thoughts,_ **indicates emphasis,** _**is mind speak**_  


* * *

I will try not to worry you.  
I have seen things that you will never see.  
Leave it to memory me. Don't dare me to breathe.  
--R.E.M. 

* * *

The small gathering in the Great Hall was formal and quiet. The group stood in pre-dawn stillness, their eyes fixed on the high window at the Hall's end. 

Then the first rays shone through the window, illuminating the pure white garments and vibrant blue robe of the Padawan who stood apart from the group with Jedi Master Mace Windu. At the touch of the light, the Padawan bowed his cowled head and knelt. The soft whisper of the blue silk robe against his linen clothing was the only sound in the chamber. 

The deep bass of Mace Windu's voice echoed in the large space. 

"Present your petition." 

Qui-Gon stepped forward and handed a datapad to the Councilor. Windu accepted it, but didn't move to read it. 

"What ask you, Qui-Gon Jinn?" 

"I ask that my Padawan Learner Obi-Wan Kenobi be acknowledged by the Council and all the Jedi Order as a Knight on this day," Qui-Gon answered in a practiced, neutral voice that couldn't completely hide a hint of pride and affection. 

"Do you swear on your honor as a Jedi that he is ready for such decoration and burden?" Mace countered. 

"Yes, I swear it upon my own honor." 

"Who stands for the honor of this Jedi Master, that I may accept his oath?" 

A tiny, wizened figure stepped forward from the gathering with the help of a walking stick. "Vouch for Qui-Gon Jinn's honor, I will. His Master I was and am." 

Windu bowed slightly to Yoda, who shuffled back to stand with the witnesses. 

Qui-Gon spoke the next question of the ceremony to Mace. "You have tested my Padawan. Do you speak for the Council?" 

"I speak on their behalf." 

"What says the Council of his worthiness?" 

A brief pause broke the steady tempo of the formal, scripted statements, and a slight smile played at Windu's lips as he said, "The Council has deemed him worthy." 

Mace turned to the assembly, raising his voice to proclaim, "Both Council and Master deem this man ready to wear and bear the title of Knight of the Jedi Order." 

Qui-Gon couldn't completely hide his smile as Mace addressed him again. "Your petition is granted by my own oath on this morning, Master Jinn. Give your last command to your Padawan. Have him rise and take his place at our side." 

Qui-Gon turned to the kneeling figure and drew a small silver knife from a pocket in his tunic. He indulged himself a few seconds by sliding his fingers down the length of the braid, before following it to its root, still hidden under the hood. Holding it firmly at Obi-Wan's temple, he cut through the thick strands in one stroke. 

Wrapping the length of hair in a square of silk the same blue as Obi-Wan's robe, he extended his hand and said, "As I trained you by my hand, take it now and rise, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

A pallid hand reached from beneath the blue robe, grasped his -- and pulled him to his knees with an inhuman strength. 

The cloaked head lifted to reveal Obi-Wan's face twisted in pain. Blood flowed copiously from his mouth; rivulets flowed onto and stained his white tunic. 

**"Obi-Wan?!"**

* * *

Qui-Gon woke in his own bed with a gasp. Not the same dream as the previous night, but not very different either. He'd dreamt of Obi-Wan almost every night since they'd battled the Sith on Naboo nearly eight months before. Over the last month, however, the dreams had taken on a much darker tone. 

Heart-weary and exhausted, he deliberately relaxed his muscles, slowed his breathing and tried to return to sleep. He needed to be up early. 

Eventually, he slept. 

* * *

Qui-Gon was nearly ready to leave his spartan quarters early the next morning when the door chime sounded. Expecting the visitor, he voiced the door open instead of going to it, and indeed it was Padawan Quetral bearing a small, potted, pale blue plant with thin leaves and a startlingly deeper blue bud. 

"Thank you Padawan. Here, I'll take it; I'm about to leave anyway." 

She handed him the pot, but instead of bowing and leaving as was her habit, she stood facing him. 

"Master Relan asked me to tell you..." the stocky Padawan hesitated, "this will be the last clipping he can spare from the vine." The last was said with an audible swallow and a quick bob of her scaled head, a sure sign of nervousness for her species. 

_Master Relan should have told me himself,_ Qui-Gon thought dourly, but only thanked the messenger quietly. They walked out of the door together and soon parted ways as he headed to the Temple's lower levels. 

He nodded to those he knew along the way. Occasionally someone wanting to exchange a few words stopped him, but he always excused himself quickly. Everyone seemed to assume he had free time these days, as if he didn't have a Padawan to attend to. They probably already knew that Obi-Wan would be Knighted as soon as he recovered -- the news of their exploits on Naboo and the reappearance of a Sith was common knowledge at the Temple before they even returned to Coruscant -- but Qui-Gon wasn't yet ready to take on new teaching assignments or missions. 

Qui-Gon finally arrived at the base of the massive Temple, and entered the Healer's wing. The staff, some just arriving, others leaving from a night shift, motioned to him or murmured greetings. He knew them all. Making his way unerringly, he arrived at a nondescript door that opened under his palm. 

Inside, the room seemed suspended in perpetual twilight. A bed in the center of the far wall neatly divided a number of medical monitoring devices, whose numerous display panels and blinking lights provided the room's only illumination. An emergency service 'droid stood idle in one corner. The only sound was a precise, slow breathing. 

Moving to the light control, he gradually increased the luminosity. Obi-Wan had never been a morning person, and he didn't want to startle him. The increasing light revealed a slim figure lying on his side, with knees slightly flexed and arms drawn close to his chest. Obi-Wan's hair was messy; grown out slightly from his familiar Padawan cut, it looked brittle and dull. His pale gray eyes were open and fixed forward in an unblinking stare. 

Qui-Gon strode to the bed, placing the plant cutting on a small side table. He removed its withered counterpart -- the plant that he had brought last week -- and placed it in the room's waste bin. It was a shame that Gellen vines could only survive in extremely regulated environments. They were Obi-Wan's favorite; he loved the scent their leaves produced. The clippings Qui-Gon brought to his Padawan's bedside slowly lost their aroma as they withered. _Bringing fresh clippings shouldn't be such an issue,_ Qui-Gon thought, considering all the time Obi-Wan had volunteered at the Temple gardens with Master Relan, caring for the only remaining specimens of a plant whose native planet was too ravished by pollution to sustain it. 

After a quick, satisfactory check of the monitoring equipment, Qui-Gon pulled open the bedside table's drawer -- which was well stocked with medical supplies -- and removed an ointment tube. 

"This will sting just a bit, Obi-Wan," he murmured as gently rolled his Padawan onto his back, tipped his head so that both staring eyes faced up and squeezed several drops into each. Since Obi-Wan's blink reflex had ceased a few weeks ago, the drops were necessary to keep his eyes from drying out. He lifted Obi-Wan's head slightly, replacing the drool-stained cloth under his head with a fresh one, and settled him back, brushing the hair away from his eyes. 

A quick check to the small, square device attached near Obi-Wan's right collarbone revealed a suitable supply of bacta, which suffused itself at regular intervals under the skin. Obi-Wan's organs had begun to fail one after another, but when the healers finally attached the small injector, he'd slowly stabilized. Why they waited so long was still a sore point with Qui-Gon -- they'd had vociferous arguments about it at the time. The bacta also had the added benefit of eliminating Obi-Wan's bedsores. 

"Time for morning exercises; you can't just lounge all day," Qui-Gon teased. He slipped his cloak off, sat on the bed next to the prone figure, pulled the blanket off one leg, and began massaging, stretching and flexing it. The fine musculature of Obi-Wan's compact body was nearly gone, leaving him looking starved and gaunt. _It will take several months of hard work in the training salles to regain his old form,_ Qui-Gon mused. 

There were medical appliances that performed this service; they attached to a patient's limbs, and sent small electrical charges into the muscles, forcing them to clench and move. Qui-Gon couldn't stand the things, and after discovering them in operation one day shortly after Obi-Wan came to the healers, had forbidden their use, coming three times per day himself to perform the necessary stretching and flexing exercises. 

As Qui-Gon began working on the other leg, the door opened behind him and he sensed the calming presence of Healer Marliksen whom he greeted without stopping his ministrations. "How is he this morning?" she asked softly, her slim form hardly coming up higher than the height of the bed. 

"Fine. His color is definitely better, and there seems to be more flexibility in his knees today." 

The Healer said nothing, rather set about pulling down the blanket from Obi-Wan's chest to attach a feeding device to the shunt on his lower abdomen. At first, Obi-Wan's swallow reflex had been strong enough to allow him to swallow liquids and be fed soft foods, but he now required intravenous fluids, and meals, _such as they were,_ Qui-Gon mused, were delivered direct. 

"That's not pestel fruit again, is it, Marli?" Qui-Gon smiled, easily falling into the morning routine. 

"No, Qui-Gon, you know I know he's not fond of it," she retorted, but her smile was thin and quickly faded. "Please, Qui-Gon, let me complete the stretching this morning. With decalcification there's always chance of fractures..." 

"If he's going to get better, he needs a gradually more vigorous workout," he interrupted with a cool smile. "We've been over this before, Marli." She was a skilled Healer, no doubt, but obviously not a trainer of Padawans. 

Healer Marliksen only nodded, removed the now empty feeding device, and covered the shunt area with a fresh, bacta-soaked cloth. "I'll be outside if you need me." 

Qui-Gon nodded absently as she left. The atrophy was getting worse in Obi-Wan's hands; they were beginning to twist in on themselves like a Traklid's claws. He would spend extra time flexing them tomorrow. 

After completing the stretches, Qui-Gon covered Obi-Wan with the blanket and allowed himself a few moments to just sit and speak quietly about the goings on in the Temple and with Obi-Wan's friends. One unseeing eye shed a tear -- _I added too many drops_ he thought -- and Qui-Gon reached out his hand to brush the liquid from Obi-Wan's cheek, letting his fingers linger, tracing too prominent bones under the milky skin. The motion brought back memories of that fateful moment on Naboo, and today he let them sweep over him... 

* * *

Qui-Gon dispatched the stunned Sith with one stroke, then dropped the 'saber and rushed to where Obi-Wan lay crumpled. Kneeling, he lifted Obi-Wan into his lap, cradling his head in the crook of his arm. Obi-Wan struggled for air, taking fast, shallow, open-mouthed breaths. Bright red blood oozed and bubbled from his mouth and drops strewed on Qui-Gon's face from the forceful exhalations. 

"Obi-Wan, hold on. Hold on, my Padawan." 

Qui-Gon felt the tension resonating within the Living Force ease, and knew Amidala's forces had been successful. 

"The Queen has captured the Viceroy. I'll get help." 

He activated his comlink with his free hand and got through to Panaka, diverting his attention from Obi-Wan only long enough to relay his location and the need for swift medical help. 

Obi-Wan's eyes never left his but his eyelids began to droop and the ragged breaths were slowing. Qui-Gon rocked him and stroked the bloody face, lowering his forehead to touch his Padawan's. "Obi-Wan!" he commanded sharply, "Stay awake. Stay with me!" 

He started when he felt a caress on his face, and realized that Obi-Wan had improbably lifted his hand to touch him. With that touch a flood of Obi-Wan's emotions washed over and into him. Serenity, rising from a sense of duty and destiny fulfilled. Love, a love so deep and boundless and pure that it stunned him. Sorrow of a future together denied. A last message: _**I will wait for you in the Force, Master.**_ Then the hand dropped to Obi-Wan's wounded chest, and his eyes closed. 

No! He may have shouted it vocally or only mentally, but he focused his energy and life force into the wounded body in his arms and dispensed that energy with substantial skill into Obi-Wan's torn, seared lungs, willing them to wholeness. 

Two days later a Nubian transport brought an unconscious Obi-Wan to the Temple's infirmary. The healers didn't know how he'd survived, but his condition began to deteriorate almost immediately, and he never awakened. 

Yet he did survive, and Qui-Gon's quarrels with the Healers, especially Marli, soon began. After three weeks, Obi-Wan's eyes began to open, even if they did not respond to stimuli. Why did they not see that as a positive sign? 

After several months Obi-Wan's limbs began to flex, and his hands drew in on themselves, so Qui-Gon insisted on beginning intensive stretching sessions. Shortly thereafter, Obi-Wan's swallow reflex failed and Obi-Wan had to rest on his side, so as not to choke on his own saliva, and again the Healers were doubtful. But that setback was easily overcome when Qui-Gon demanded a feeding shunt be inserted, and he even gained a few pounds. 

Yes, his organs began to fail, but they'd slowly stabilized when Qui-Gon overrode Marli's objections and she surgically attached an intravenous bacta unit. 

Then two weeks ago, Marli summoned him in the night. Obi-Wan could no longer breathe on his own. She'd tried to convince him to let his Padawan die! The memory still galled Qui-Gon. Why did they underestimate Obi-Wan? Didn't any of them understand that he just needed more time to recover? Qui-Gon again insisted on an implant that now controlled Obi-Wan's breathing -- a tiny, subcutaneous chip which stimulated the lungs, forcing them to expand and contract. Equally galling was the way Marli acquiesced to his desperate request -- as if she were doing this for him, not Obi-Wan. 

"He won't recover, Qui-Gon. I truly don't know why he isn't dead, but he **can't** recover. But I will do this one last thing..." 

Marli didn't understand. Obi-Wan hadn't died because Qui-Gon had commanded him to live. So he continued the daily routine he'd come to think of as Obi-Wan's interim training regimen. Obi-Wan would not only recover, he would attend his Knighting ceremony and then, their Bonding ceremony. Qui-Gon hadn't decided if he would invite Marli. 

* * *

Qui-Gon turned to look at the kneeling figure and extended his hand. 

"As I trained you by my hand, take it now and rise, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

Obi-Wan took his hand and rose in a smooth, graceful motion. Qui-Gon looked down at the radiant face for a second then swept him into a tight hug. The hug was returned, but it was so tight -- too tight. Obi-Wan's arms felt like iron bands across his back, and his breath was slowly crushed out of him. Terror and pain twined and he felt his ribs snap and still the arms squeezed tighter. Then the grip was gone but the pain continued as he collapsed to the floor, unable to breathe. The witnesses were walking away, and Obi-Wan turned to follow. 

"Obi-Wan, don't...leave..." Qui-Gon managed to whisper. The blue-cloaked figure stopped and turned. 

"Don't worry, Master," Obi-Wan said with a slight smile, "I will visit you in the infirmary every day." 

Qui-Gon woke with a shout, and was unable to sleep for the rest of the long night. 

* * *

It was a haggard-looking Jedi Master who entered Obi-Wan's room the next morning, going through the usual routine. As planned, he began the morning's massage with Obi-Wan's gnarled hands, stretching the right wrist and then the fingers on that hand. Their mobility had decreased in just the last several days, and Qui-Gon pulled them back, applying more pressure than usual to each one. 

"We can't let your hands atrophy. You need your strength there." 

Dissatisfied with the limited flexibility, Qui-Gon began stretching harder, first massaging the base of each finger then flexing it backward. The comforting motions had him wistful and deep in thought. 

He felt - then heard - a sickening 'crack' and Obi-Wan's index finger snapped back at the first joint in an unnatural angle. 

Qui-Gon released the hand and jumped back to his feet as if he'd been shocked. Dark energies swirled around him and the air was punctuated by sharp sounds -- his own harsh breathing, he realized -- as he stared down at Obi-Wan's hand. The index finger remained distended, even as the rest of the hand curled back in on itself. 

He looked down at Obi-Wan's hand with its now distended finger, and looked past that to see, actually **see** Obi-Wan for the first time since Naboo. 

_"Oh, Force what have I done? What am I **doing**?"_

A wave of regret and sorrow pulsed through him and when he had fought through it, he found himself sitting on the bed with an anxious healer standing beside him. He didn't trust himself to speak, but motioned to Obi-Wan's broken hand. 

Marliksen gently ran her three-fingered hands over Obi-Wan's wrist, hand, and finally the injured finger. Qui-Gon saw it twitch, then move back to its curled position along side the rest. She sighed heavily, and lay Obi-Wan's hand down gently on his chest. "It becomes harder to heal him each time." 

Qui-Gon hadn't stopped to think that he may have injured Obi-Wan before without knowing. He fought bile back down his throat and stood to face Marli. 

"I would like it to happen in our quarters. He was never comfortable in the infirmary." 

Marli didn't ask what he meant, but but her expression showed she did wonder at the sudden change of heart after eight, obstinate months. 

"I will arrange for that." 

"I have my own arrangements to make. May I come back at seventh hour?" 

"Yes, I'll see that he is ready." 

Qui-Gon looked hard at Marli, and realized that he'd never truly seen her before. 

"Thank you," he said simply. 

She nodded and bowed slightly as he left. 

* * *

Qui-Gon left the Infirmary and made his way up the levels of the massive Temple until he was at the base of the central tower, wondering again why the Council saw fit to set themselves above the giant bulk of the Temple where so many beings trained, taught, died. He'd crossed them on many occasions, but he was also one of the best field operatives they had, and they usually trusted his findings. Until his last mission. 

Pushing the dark thoughts and memories away, he approached the coadjutor stationed at a huge sweeping curved desk in front of the entrance to the lift leading to the Council tower. 

"I request a quorum for a Knight's petition." 

"Your name?" 

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn, petitioning for Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

The tentacled creature behind the desk closed her eyes as she accessed the data strip wrapped above her left ear pod. 

"There is no record of an appointment for a Petition today." 

"I have not filed the Petition in the usual manner. I wish to make it in person. Such is in my right as a Jedi Master," he added somewhat sharply. 

Purple eyes opened and regarded him intently. "Such may well be your right, but it is also the right of the Council to deny a hasty request." 

Qui-Gon tucked his hands in the arms of his cloak, took a deferential step away from the counter and nodded his head. "I understand that my request seems impetuous, but I assure you it is not. I know the Council is engaged with matters of great import. I only seek a quorum, not a full session." 

"A quorum is available..." The strange eyes closed again, then opened sharply. "They will see you," she said, with a hint of surprise in her raspy voice. 

Qui-Gon bowed and stepped into the lift. 

He entered the great chamber and came to a halt in the center, crossed his arms inside his cloak as a sign of respect, and bowed. Slowly the mental traffic between the five counselors tapered off and they turned their attention to him. 

"You wish to make a Petition for Obi-Wan?" asked Mace. "Has there been a change in his condition?" 

His face gave nothing away, but Qui-Gon knew him well enough to feel the strange mix of curiosity, sympathy and hope in his mental bearing. 

Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and centered himself. "Obi-Wan will not survive the night..." His throat constricted, and he stopped. Putting this simple fact into words was much harder than he had expected or prepared for. The Council waited patiently for him to continue. 

"I had hoped to make his Petition after his recovery, but that is not possible. I seek Knighthood for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and submit his final actions on Naboo as proof of his readiness in place of any formal Trials." 

Depa Bilaba and Ki Adi-Mundi visibly started at this statement. Mace cast his eyes downwards, and again Qui-Gon was aware of mental communication, like a feathery touch along the flow of each Council member's Force-signature. 

In the silence that followed, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, again struggling to control himself after stating his intentions. He was startled out of his reverie by Mace's deep voice. 

"From your mission report, we were not aware there was exemplary behavior on Padawan Kenobi's part to justify such a request." 

Qui-Gon was shocked, and looked from Windu to Poof, and finally his old friend Plo Koon, whose masked face gave nothing away. 

"Obi-Wan fought a **Sith** ..." 

"Padawan Kenobi allowed himself to be separated from you during a crucial battle. He moved ahead of you during the fight and allowed himself to be cut off. He left you alone, I might add, without thought that the Sith might have had reinforcements. 

"He ignored years of training, sought to engage the creature on his own, and was defeated." 

Qui-Gon was stunned into silence. 

"Fighting the Sith was an amazing thing for a Padawan to do, but in the end it was you who killed the Sith, not him," Depa added softly. 

"Qui-Gon, I know it's uncharacteristic of him," Mace continued, his tone now gentle. "Because of Obi-Wan's exemplarity performance as a senior Padawan, he would have only been censured had he...recovered. After a satisfactory probation period, you could have applied for his Petition. There is no need now for such an action to be reflected on his record, of course..." 

"Censured!?" Qui-Gon all but shouted. He calmed himself with difficulty, looking at each Councilor for similar signs of outrage at Mace's statement, but found only sympathetic stares. 

"Qui-Gon..." Mace began, but he was backing away from them all now, dizzy and enraged. 

"Master Jinn!" came a sterner warning from Mace, but Qui-Gon only turned and strode from the chamber. 

* * *

Qui-Gon walked through the Temple halls without direction or purpose. His hood drawn up, neither seeing nor hearing anyone, he passed meeting chambers, refectories, training rooms and living quarters with quick strides, unaware of direction or time until he stopped with a hoarse groan, bowing his head and struggling for emotional control. Finally the anger faded, letting purpose and determination replace the angry emotions screaming for an outlet. 

He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. A slightly dusty corridor, largely empty, with only 'droids carrying boxes and pushing repulser loads. He gave a short, ironic laugh. He'd meant to come here - the northeast corner of the Temple on one of the lowest levels - **after** the Council had approved his petition. 

_I've bluffed my way past worse situations..._ he mused, and lowered his hood as he walked the short distance to the hallway's end and picked up a requisition datapad from a shelf to the left of the narrow door there. Schooling his features to their normal calm, he finished entering the items he would need and walked in. 

* * *

The Quartermaster for Special Needs, Nasank Tijj, was an ancient Vindurian, whose back was badly bowed by age. Following his retirement from active field and negotiation duty, he'd held this post for over twenty years, using the connections of a lifetime's work along with a great deal of ingenuity to find the necessary props, clothing, weapons and documentation for Jedi working undercover or in extreme conditions. 

A more pleasant task assigned to his office was preparing the proper robes and sashes for each Coruscant-based Knighting Ceremony. As close to an item of vanity that any Jedi was likely to keep during a frugal lifetime of service, such garments were sewn by highly specialized 'droids, using an extremely rare silk originally woven on Coruscant but procured for many millennia now from Dantooine. Each garment was carefully dyed to match the frequency of color of the Knight-Elect's 'saber crystals. 

Requisitions for such garments were usually sent from the Council, but it was not uncommon for a Master to make the request in person, in order to provide a 'saber crystal for color matching. Qui-Gon was counting on the informality of the process to get what he needed for Obi-Wan. 

However, either the Council had anticipated his next move or the elderly Master was aware of Obi-Wan's condition. After reading the datapad carefully, he looked directly at Qui-Gon. 

"I cannot fulfill your requisition, Master Jinn." 

"And why is that?" 

"I have not received notice from the Council that your Padawan is eligible to make his Petition." 

"I am telling you he is ready." 

"I can not create the necessary garments without their notification!" Nasank shook his angular, green head. "I don't even have the crystal to create the robe's color...." 

"I've brought the crystal," Qui-Gon retorted, laying a small pouch on the Vindurian's desk. Nasank made no move to retrieve it. 

"I have heard about your Padawan's condition, Master Jinn, and I'm sorry..." 

"Is it a matter of the cost of the material?" Qui-Gon interrupted angrily. 

White eyes met his. "You know it is not. You know **very well** why I cannot give you what you ask for, Master Jinn." 

Qui-Gon stood still for a moment, meeting that milky gaze, as he again struggled to find control. 

"Thank you for your time," he finally answered in a low voice, and swept out of the office. 

* * *

The rays of sun shining through the narrow, high windows of the Temple library began to shorten as the sun neared its noon zenith. 

The Jedi Master who'd been there several hours already had no need for such indicators of time's passage -- after eight months of waiting, he knew that time was now short. 

He had only a vague idea of what he was searching the Code for as he had never been a student of its literal tenets, preferring instead to interpret the will that divined the Code as the moment dictated. 

He was, however, highly focused and motivated and within a few hours he'd honed in on what he was looking for. A half-remembered lesson on the more obscure ways a Padawan could become a Knight had fascinated a young initiate whose life goal was to become said Knight, and it was for details of one of these methods that he now searched. 

There was a way a Master could petition for his Padawan's ascension, harking back a thousand years to a time when the words of the Ceremony had a more than ritual meaning. 

A Master used to literally stake his own honor as a Jedi that his Padawan was worthy to bear the title of Knight. In those tumultuous times, the Sith had beaten back the Jedi's numbers to the point that there was neither always a quorum of councilors available, nor a safe place to meet. In a kind of field promotion, the Padawan was elevated in a private ceremony by his or her Master and confirmed later. 

If the confirmation was not approved, the Master forfeited his own place with the Jedi, as did the newly elected Knight -- **if** said Knight was still living. 

It was the specifics on this last bit that Qui-Gon had come to find. As was often the case in any body of labyrinthine rules, it had never been struck from the Code though it was no longer needed. Qui-Gon had never heard of it being invoked. 

The language for such a petition was archaic, made even more so by the ancient requirement that the petition be written on an actual paper scroll. Qui-Gon carefully downloaded an example request into his datapad. For the first time he could remember, he was grateful that the Temple was on Coruscant, one of the few planets guaranteed to have specialty shops for any conceivable item. He returned to his rooms and quickly located an antiques vendor who sold real paper. 

* * *

It was mid afternoon when Qui-Gon found himself again in the offices of the Quartermaster with his new petition. Nasank eyed Qui-Gon with open suspicion, then surprise as he was presented with an actual paper scroll. Looking at it for a long minute, he bid Qui-Gon to sit and slowly unrolled it. 

Reading it in total silence from beginning to end -- his species didn't breath -- he went back and inspected several portions, clawed fingers hovering above the parchment. At last he looked up with milky, unreadable eyes at Qui-Gon who sat erect and silent. 

"I don't have to ask you if you understand the consequences of your petition... should the Council deny it." 

Qui-Gon nodded. 

"However, everything is in order. I need a few hours to prepare the material. I'll have it delivered to your quarters by the end of the day, and I will then forward your petition to the Council." 

"I'm sure they will have adjourned by the time you complete the items. Surely... **tomorrow** morning will be early enough to forward the petition?" 

Qui-Gon pushed a soft pouch containing Obi-Wan's 'saber stone across the desk. The Quartermaster opened the pouch and closed his webbed hand around the soft blue stone. After a long moment, he acquiesced and simply nodded his head. 

Qui-Gon stood and bowed deeply. "Thank you." 

The Quartermaster echoed the motion. "May the Force be with you, Master Jinn." 

* * *

Qui-Gon entered Obi-Wan's Padawan quarters for the last time, not that he was a frequent visitor: his Padawan usually met him in his own small suite of rooms when they were at Temple. 

Even after eight months, Obi-Wan's presence in the room could be felt quite clearly in the Force. It was more evident in this empty space than it was in Obi-Wan's bed at the infirmary. 

Now that he was here, Qui-Gon found himself at a loss. He needed to take any items that he wanted to keep after... 

Putting the inevitable out of his mind, he concentrated on gathering Ob-Wan's personal journal slates, mission work, correspondence and holopics. 

A box -- now covered in dust -- containing Obi-Wan's cloak and utility belt had been placed just inside the door, and Qui-Gon used this to hold what he took. Tuned outward as his senses were for any hint of Obi-Wan's presence, Qui-Gon knew without looking that the force sensitive stone he'd given Obi-Wan for his thirteenth birthday was tucked away in that belt. Still, after all these years. 

Other small gifts for various naming days and special occasions lined the room's single shelf. Behind them were holopics, most of Qui-Gon or the two of them together. When had Obi-Wan taken them? He knew without looking that he would find mention of Obi-Wan's feelings towards him in the journals, but he hadn't the fortitude or time to look now. When the box was full, Qui-Gon went to the closet and removed a dress white tunic and leggings, remembering Obi-Wan telling him he'd filled out to the point where they were tight on him and he needed to requisition another set. That would no longer be a problem. 

* * *

Qui-Gon arrived at Obi-Wan's infirmary room for the last time at seventh hour, and Marli was waiting for him. Obi-Wan had been dressed in a simple shift and placed on a hover bed. 

"Qui-Gon. He is ready." 

She held a small device, about half the size of a datapad, and motioned him over to her. 

"This unit now controls the implant that allows Obi-Wan to breathe. Its operation is simple. Press here and the implant will stop functioning. If you like, this dial provides a simple timer unit. There... is no way to reactivate the implant once you use this." She handed him the device, and he placed it in on his belt. 

"Marli..." No other words would come. 

"It's all right, Qui-Gon. I'll know when it is over and will send someone after a time." 

He nodded, then placed his cloak over his Padawan and lifted him off the hover bed. "I'll carry him." 

* * *

Qui-Gon carried the still form through the Temple halls. Obi-Wan's face rested against his neck so that he could feel each exhalation, and Qui-Gon was careful to not place any strain on the fragile body. He couldn't lose Obi-Wan now, not now that they were so close. 

He'd expected to have to draw upon the Force to make the journey, but Obi-Wan's weight was a fraction of what it should have been. He chose a less traveled route, ignoring those few he passed who gazed at him in curiosity, respect, and sadness until he at last arrived at his rooms and voiced the door open. 

The furnishings of the main room had been pushed against the walls and out of the way, except for a low, spacious couch now in the center of the room. There was only dim lighting, with a few scattered candles providing most of the illumination. 

Qui-Gon lay Obi-Wan on the couch and carefully maneuvered the long shift he wore in the infirmary off over his head. He couldn't help but flinch at the sight of too prominent ribs and jutting hipbones, knowing he was the one who had reduced Obi-Wan to this state. 

Carrying Obi-Wan into the refresher where he'd placed a tub of warm water, Qui-Gon adjusted the temperature with a touch of Force. He carefully laid his charge in the tub, settling his head against a towel on the lip. 

He bathed Obi-Wan, talking as he worked. 

"I've found a way, Obi-Wan. A loophole to be sure, but it will stand until you are Knighted. The Council will consider it in the morning. I hope it will stand then, but if it doesn't, it will be only myself disgraced." 

He washed Obi-Wan's hair while supporting his head with one hand, then took up his trimming scissors and went to work on hair which was months too long after carefully separating the lock for his braid. 

"It's usual for a Master and Apprentice to spend this night in reflection. It's a time to ponder our place in the universe, the Force and the Order -- and a time to reminisce on our years of service together as well. 

"We cannot do this properly, but I would tell you some things I've not said before, so there will be nothing unknown between us." 

Qui-Gon finished clipping Obi-Wan's hair as best he could, and reverently wrapped the fallen strands in a soft cloth and set them aside. 

He lathered Obi-Wan's face and began to shave him. Obi-Wan had a heavy beard. _It would have been heavier than mine,_ he thought, though the rest of Obi-Wan's body hair was sparse. 

"I want you to know how very proud I am of you. You grew from a tentative, insecure boy who only thought about how to obtain a Master, to a confident man who has no problem speaking up to his old Master for what he believes in. Though you and I follow the will of the Force in different ways, you always walked the path of light. 

"And in that **moment** -- when you showed me the true nature of your love -- I could see a future for myself that held joy beyond my service to the Force. Oh, that I could have bonded with you..." 

He stopped talking, lest his hands become unsteady, and finished shaving Obi-Wan. Moving on, he filed finger and toenails, and lifted Obi-Wan out of the tub onto a pile of soft towels and gently dried him. 

Returning him to the couch in the main room, Qui-Gon retrieved Obi-Wan's dress whites and began to awkwardly dress him, forgoing utility belt and boots. He opened the package beside the couch, revealing a beautiful blue cloak, sash and a small swatch of matching cloth. He affixed Obi-Wan's tunic with the sash, and lifted him up to wrap him in the cloak, laying the still head back into his lap. 

Braiding Obi-Wan's hair once last time, Qui-Gon wrapped threads of the same blue color into it, tying it off just below the ear and a few inches above the end. 

Qui-Gon then took a pouch from his cloak and removed a pendant on a long trentium chain. It was a rare opallios-gem. 

"Do you remember when you first saw this, Obi-Wan? You must have been around sixteen. We were supposedly shopping for a gift for your friend Reeft who was going off planet for two years, but I think we were mostly just enjoying the day. The market square was on an upper level in quadrant 18, and I, for one, was enjoying real sunlight. I was doing nothing more strenuous than pondering lunch, when I heard you say... 

* * *

"Master, you have to see this!" 

"I'm coming, Padawan. What is it?" 

"I'm not certain, but it is wonderful." 

Obi-Wan pointed to a pendant on display in a shop window. Qui-Gon recognized the stone. "That is a opallios-gem, Obi-Wan. Very rare, very expensive." 

"I've never seen anything like it. Master...?" Obi-Wan shut his eyes, and slowly smiled. It was a full smile, a rarity for him. "I can **feel** it..." 

Qui-Gon sensed it too. The stone, carefully displayed on a black background with a clear light shining down from the display's lid, was ablaze with every color his eyes could pick up from the spectrum. But it radiated with something besides shimmering colors. The stone had a Force presence. 

"Very good. You detected that the gem is Force-sensitive without even touching it." 

At the mention of touching the stone, Obi-Wan peered closer, but then stepped back, taking in the ambiance of the shop window and realizing it was a specialty store for expensive items. He peered up at Qui-Gon and there was a simple, low-key joy in his gaze. He was happy to have seen and sensed a beautiful object. 

* * *

"But I realized in that moment that I still doubted you on some fundamental level, my Padawan. I wondered if you truly could you be satisfied to just see something beautiful like that and not wish to possess it. So I began to question you. Do you remember? 

"I asked you if you would like to go into the shop and touch the pendant. You seemed a little surprised, and explained to me -- to **me** -- that all the items in that shop were probably quite expensive. 

"But I wasn't satisfied with that answer. I asked, in a casual and, I'm afraid to say, deceitful manner that wasn't it a shame that we as Jedi would never possess such beautiful things. We were in a unique position to appreciate the gem, yet would likely never have the wherewithal to own it. 

"Because I was manipulating you, you didn't realize what I was really asking. Xanatos would have considered such things his due. He was merely waiting for the right time when any object he desired he could have -- or take. He had misled me, and I feared that desire to **possess** might be in you. 

"Do you remember what you told me, Obi-Wan? You said that it would be wonderful to own such an item, to be able to see the beauty every day, and feel the Force presence. But you already possessed the gem because you would always remember it and besides, you **had** a Force stone of great value. And you brought the rock that I gave you for your thirteenth birthday from your pocket and graced me with one of your sly smiles. You know the ones, Padawan, that tell me I am being a bit silly, or slow. 

"I think I might have squeezed your shoulder, or maybe patted your back and laughed, but inside...inside it was if a great weight had been lifted from my heart." 

Qui-Gon slipped the fine but strong chain around Obi-Wan's neck, pulling the braid out and laying the opallios pendant on the V of his white tunic. 

"Some years later I was in the same district, and saw the same shop. The owner had fallen on hard financial times, and I used my savings to procure the pendant at a reduced price. I had no use for the credits, and I thought it would make a nice surprise for your Knighting Day." 

There was nothing left to do; everything was in order. From his tunic, he removed a small knife. 

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, by my own honor as a Knight of the Jedi Order, and my place as a Master, I place the burden of Knight on you. May the Force be with you and guide your actions always." 

As he spoke words of a ceremony not used in a thousand years, he sliced through Obi-Wan's braid and wrapped it in the small blue cloth swatch, folding it carefully and placing it in his tunic. He then removed the small remote device Marli had given him, set it to ten minutes and activated it. 

With one hand on Obi-Wan's forehead and another on his rhythmically rising and falling chest, Qui-Gon sent his spirit to find that part of Obi-Wan which still clung to life. 

* * *

The sky was steel gray and the landscape bleak, featureless, dead. Qui-Gon pulled his cloak tightly around him against the cold wind and looked around. Bandomeer. But where was Obi-Wan? 

He quieted his mind and stretched out his Force sense -- and heard it. A soft crying, coming from behind a low hill. Walking around the rise, Qui-Gon came upon a young boy. Obi-Wan as an Initiate -- he wore no braid. He rocked on the stony ground, arms wrapped tight around his knees, face lowered. Qui-Gon knelt, laying a hand on the small shoulder. "Obi-Wan!" 

Obi-Wan just jerked away. 

"Obi-Wan, it's me!" 

"No!" the boy shouted, crawling away from the intrusion. 

"Obi-Wan stop!" 

"No! Qui-Gon told me to wait for him, so I'm not going anywhere!" 

Qui-Gon stepped in front of Obi-Wan, knelt again and lifted the tear-stained face with both hands. "Obi-Wan, I'm here," he said softly. 

Recognition made the hazel eyes blaze and Obi-Wan smiled broadly. Qui-Gon had forgotten how huge Obi-Wan's eyes were when he was this young – his face was all eyes and teeth. 

Quick as thought, everything changed. He was standing face to face with his adult Padawan in a Temple garden. "Qui-Gon," sighed Obi-Wan happily, "I knew you would come." 

Qui-Gon reached out tentatively, touching the healthy, glowing skin of Obi-Wan's face and stroking the soft hair. His hand began to shake, and then he was gathering the young man into a hug, reveling in the fit, strong body pressed against him. He felt Obi-Wan smile into his neck, and then the hug was returned and Qui-Gon groaned with emotion. To feel this...to have this chance to set things right was a blessing. He moved his lips to Obi-Wan's ear and began to nuzzle and kiss, his senses completely overwhelmed with the touch and smell and now taste of Obi-Wan, **his** Obi-Wan. 

The kiss that followed was slow and sweet. Qui-Gon was light-headed from the feel of Obi-Wan's soft lips and mouth. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss. Obi-Wan opened to him with a sigh and he touched lips, teeth, tongue in hungry, almost frantic strokes. Obi-Wan pulled his head back, but Qui-Gon followed, reluctant to let the moment go. Finally Obi-Wan broke the kiss. 

"Master." 

Qui-Gon reluctantly opened his eyes, expecting to see the specter from his dreams or worse yet, nothing. Obi-Wan was still there, just a few inches from him. He was older. His strong face was bearded, and his unruly hair was nearly shoulder length. It seemed redder at that length, and the full beard and mustache were distinctly red. The body in his arms felt different as well, thicker and more muscled. 

"Qui-Gon, why are you here? And what's happening to me? I tried to join with the Force, but I couldn't, and I couldn't call to you or find my way back." 

Qui-Gon sighed. "Obi-Wan, it's my fault. I healed you on Naboo. I commanded you to live, and reinforced that command with the Force. You've been in a coma for eight months now." 

Obi-Wan looked at him harshly, then softened and relaxed again. Qui-Gon wondered what his own face must look like after months of strain He owed Obi-Wan an explanation for this travesty he'd forced upon him, but there was no good reason; only the truth. 

"I've kept you alive by artificial means long past the time the Healers knew you would not recover. I can only apologize for my weakness. I never knew you loved me that way. I couldn't stand to lose you when I felt that I'd just discovered you. I love you so much... I just couldn't admit to myself that I would never hold you...taste you..." 

Qui-Gon's voice broke, but Obi-Wan gathered him back into his arms and kissed him again. The beard tickled against his own, and Qui-Gon groaned, sweeping his arms down Obi-Wan's strong, muscled back and resting them on the swell of his ass. Obi-Wan broke the kiss and began licking lightly at the skin of his neck. "Master, you will never lose me. I'll be part of the Force – I'll be with you forever. " 

Qui-Gon slid down to his knees, still holding Obi-Wan and pressing his face to his stomach as the younger man stroked his hair. 

"Obi-Wan, I can't stay behind without you. I thought I had the strength, but I do not. I won't be parted from you again." He knew he was weeping now, but didn't care. 

"I'm not that strong. I want to go into the Force with you. I can't go back and face life without you." 

"Master, what do you mean? You still haven't told me how it is you're here with me... What have you done?" Obi-Wan knelt himself and mimicked Qui-Gon's action of a few minutes earlier, pulling him up to face him. He was older know, white hairs streaking his hair and beard, eyes piercing and serious. 

Qui-Gon controlled himself with effort and explained to Obi-Wan about the implant that allowed his heart to beat and lungs to breathe. "In a very few minutes, it will stop. Your body will die, and you can pass into the Force at last." 

Obi-Wan stood abruptly and stared down at him aghast. "But...if you stay here with me, your consciousness will be torn away from your own body! You'll die as well...Gods, I understand now!" He began to pace. 

Qui-Gon was confused at the exasperation and outright anger he felt from his Padawan. They were joined mind to mind in this state, and could not hide emotions from each other. Why would he care if Qui-Gon only wanted to stay with him... 

"I **care** because I died so that you could live!" 

"Obi-Wan...?" 

In full Knight mode, Obi-Wan drew himself up and crossed his arms. He was now about Qui-Gon's age, and he looked down at Qui-Gon as if he were a recalcitrant initiate. 

"I had a vision, Qui-Gon, a true Seeing. During the battle with the Sith, I knew that only one of us would survive. At first I was convinced that it was you who would die. I knew you would ask me to train Anakin, and also knew that I could deny you nothing if that happened." 

He looked away and the scene again changed to the barren landscape and Qui-Gon saw what Obi-Wan had in the Seeing. A universe shattered, peace gone, Jedi dying...because of... 

"Anakin?" 

"No, not just Anakin. He had help." 

"The other Sith..." 

"Yes. And I couldn't help him make the right choice at the pivotal moment." Obi-Wan fixed him with an ironic grin. "You were right about one thing, Master. He can bring balance to the Force. But I somehow don't think this was what you had in mind." 

Qui-Gon barked a mirthless laugh. "No, I can't say it was." 

"The alternative became clear. If a life was to be lost in the battle, it needed to be mine. I had to wear the Sith down so that you could finish him off." 

Obi-Wan strode to Qui-Gon and lifted him none too gently to his feet. His own Padawan was back, and he wasn't happy. "You will **not** throw this away. I don't know what the future holds for you and Anakin, but I've seen the alternative and it is unthinkable!" 

Shaken to his core, Qui-Gon still shook his head. "Obi-Wan, I don't know that I can. I'm not the same. No matter what happens here, a part of me died with you back on Naboo. I don't know what kind of Master I'd make for Ani..." 

Obi-Wan's features softened. 

"Oh, my Master." 

He ran his fingers down the chain around his neck, then looked down at the pendant. Smiling at Qui-Gon, mouthing, "It's beautiful," he clasped it tightly. Qui-Gon could feel tendrils of Obi-Wan's own Force energy merging with those of the gem. 

Unfocused eyes gradually sharpened again on his face, and Obi-Wan removed the pendant and slipped it over Qui-Gon's neck, carefully pulling his hair from under the chain and tucking it under his tunics, then moved to kiss him again. 

The landscape of Bandomeer began to blur, and Qui-Gon had a disjointed feeling of being in a series of time and places all at once... 

* * *

He was on top of Obi-Wan, they were naked in his bed and Obi-Wan's head was thrown back as he gasped. They gripped each other's hips, pressing them close as their oiled lengths slid against each other. Qui-Gon leaned down to suck on Obi-Wan's nipple, then cried out as his release washed over him. This was their Bonding night... 

* * *

Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan outside of the initiates sparring area. The Knight, with the first touches of gray in his long auburn hair, was fidgeting, a most uncommon state for Obi-Wan. As soon as he saw Qui-Gon, he motioned him over and pointed out a tall girl, with white hair and lightly tanned skin. She was going through a warm up routine and glanced over their way, revealing lovely amber eyes. 

"That's her, Barcha." 

"Are you sure about this Obi-Wan?" 

"No!" he laughed and turned to his bond mate. It will change everything for us. And although I've been pressured for years..." 

"Decades," Qui-Gon interjected with a smile. 

"...I won't be bullied into something I'm not ready for." Earnest eyes look at him for guidance. 

Qui-Gon couldn't help but kiss him on the forehead. "If you've felt the beginnings of a bond, don't make the mistake I did by fighting it." 

"A bond has started, Qui-Gon...I just didn't expect it to happen while you were away – I wanted to talk with you when you returned from your mission before deciding anything." 

"The Force isn't known for bowing to our wishes. You will make a wonderful Master, Obi-Wan. I can feel it." 

Obi-Wan still looked troubled. "She's from Bruck's family line," he said softly. 

"All the more reason for you to guide her in the ways of the light." 

Obi-Wan smiled and leaned into Qui-Gon's embrace. "I love you..." 

* * *

Qui-Gon dozed lightly in a comfortable chair, wakened by the voices just outside the bedroom door. His Obi-Wan was objecting to something being said by a third person in a very adamant tone. Qui-Gon didn't need to hear to know the current of the conversation, or what it meant. He'd been dreaming of the Force and what it would feel like to join with it for the past tenth. Obi-Wan knew it was nearly time. He was just being stubborn. 

He heard the outer door slide open and close, then Obi-Wan's booted feet as he walked heavily into their bedchamber. His bond mate was still strong and unbowed by age, even if his beard was mostly white – a strange juxtaposition to his hair, which was still mostly auburn. 

"Obi-Wan, you look as if you're marching into battle. There is nothing you can do. Nothing to prepare for. Just be with me tonight," he whispered. 

Obi-Wan turned his head away and swallowed heavily. Qui-Gon knew that stubborn look. This wasn't going to be easy. 

"It's just a matter of finding a Healer willing to expend the effort necessary to track down the root cause of your illness! With all the resources of the Temple at their fingers, how hard could it be?" Obi-Wan half shouted. 

"Shhh. Come over here to me, I want to touch you." 

The defiant look left Obi-Wan's face, replaced by sorrow, and fearfulness. He walked to the chair and knelt down with his head in Qui-Gon's lap and his arms around his waist. Qui-Gon didn't need to see his face to know Obi-Wan was crying quietly now, and expended what energy he had left to place his hand on Obi-Wan's head. 

"It's alright. We've known I would likely pass before you. That's the way it should be, my Obi-Wan. I don't think I could have stood it the other way around. You have your Padawans to care for you. 

"I love you more than life. You know that don't you?" 

"Yes, Master," came the muffled reply and the arms around his waist tightened. 

"Good. You remember that in the years – many, many years hopefully – to come." 

Then his consciousness faded and he was again standing with Obi-Wan. 

Only now **he** was angry. 

"I **want** that! I want every day, every moment that we won't have! We deserve that, Obi-Wan. Gods, I love you so very much..." 

Obi-Wan only smiled at him sadly. 

The sky rumbled and a wind suddenly whipped at their clothing, bringing with it drops of cold rain. 

"It's starting..." Obi-Wan said in awe, stepping away from Qui-Gon and focusing on the darkening sky. Qui-Gon followed his mind and could feel the Force, in all its majestic power. Obi-Wan raised his arms to it, then turned in a flash as if he'd just realized Qui-Gon was still with him. 

The Knight returned, and stepped to close the distance between them. "Master, you will never be alone. I **will** wait for you in the Force. We will have all you've seen and more. Please...do this for me. You taught me better than this." 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. Nodding his assent was the hardest thing he'd ever done in a lifetime filled with hardships. But something wasn't right. The path back... 

"Obi-Wan," he exclaimed, opening his eyes to see his Padawan of the present, "I've come with you too far. I'm not certain I **can** return." 

Obi-Wan merely lifted a hand to touch his lips and face very gently. "It's all right." He placed both hands on Qui-Gon's chest, over his heart and where the opallios pendant was tucked under his tunic. "It's time now." 

"Oh, and Master," the sly smile was back, "you must stop giving me rocks as presents." 

Then Obi-Wan pushed him away, and Qui-Gon awoke with a gasp in his own quarters with his dying Padawan's head on his lap. 

Qui-Gon instinctively hugged Obi-Wan's still body tighter. It was happening. The steady breathing he'd unconsciously listened for every day of the past eight months had stopped. Qui-Gon pressed his face into Obi-Wan's soft hair, slightly rocking him. There was a tremor in Obi-Wan's chest, as his heart beat faster, then fluttered and faltered; the briefest spasm of Obi-Wan's legs, then it was over. 

* * *

As Obi-Wan grew cold and heavy in his arms, Qui-Gon felt something inside himself break. The darkness and fear of the past months, mixed with his too brief respite in Obi-Wan's arms and visions of the future they would never have released itself. He sobbed into the red-brown hair, reaching down and pulling Obi-Wan up to his chest. 

How long he stayed that way, ragged sobs giving way to hitched breath, he wasn't certain, but the morning sun had risen when he heard the chiming of his door. Heard it dimly, as if it was a corridor away, and ignored it as easily as if it was. Nothing was more important than holding Obi-Wan in his arms. None of this had happened, if he could only hold on... 

The door slid open and a small figure walked ahead of two formally dressed knights with a hover bed. Yoda made his way to the couch and faced Qui-Gon, who only continued to rock Obi-Wan, his head buried in hair now wet with tears. 

Sighing, Yoda motioned to the Knights, and the first reached out to Obi-Wan, only to fall backwards from a Force push. 

"Qui-Gon!" Yoda's angry voice finally broke through the older man's haze, but he still snarled a warning as the Knight rose to his feet and moved towards him again. 

"Qui-Gon, let them take him." 

"No," Qui-Gon growled. "You will take him and burn him and his name will be forgotten." 

Yoda motioned to the Knights and they moved back a few steps. "No, my Padawan. Given a Knight's pyre, he will be. Read your petition, I did. Called the Council together just a few minutes ago. Through you, I saw Obi-Wan's vision last night. True Seeing it was. Understand now, we do, why such actions Obi-Wan took. 

"He will have a place in the Tower of Remembrance. A debt we owe your Padawan. A clearer path we now have to walk. Still dangerous...very dangerous. Blind to the obvious we were, but now hope there is." 

Qui-Gon said nothing, but allowed the Knights to come near when Yoda motioned them. 

"Let them take him to his pyre, my Padawan. Let them take care of him." 

Qui-Gon hesitated, and then nodded imperceptibly. The larger of the Knights gently lifted Obi-Wan from Qui-Gon's lap, pulling him away from his blue robe, which Qui-Gon clutched and hugged to himself. 

His expression was still glassy as the Knights carefully arranged Obi-Wan and pushed the hover bed out of his rooms. 

Perhaps an hour passed before he realized the wizened old Master was still there. 

"Eat, you should. Sleep for this evening." 

"I should be preparing Obi-Wan for the pyre. It's my duty...but I cannot, my Master." 

"Know this I do. Do all necessary things for you, I will. Come for you at the proper time someone will. Rest you should until then." 

Qui-Gon lay down on the couch, still clutching the blue robe as his old Master had commanded. Yoda moved closer and placed a green finger on his chest. 

"Left a bit of himself behind, he did." 

Qui-Gon reached up -- and felt it. The opallios pendant. Around his neck. But how... 

"Sleep you will," intoned Yoda, as he moved towards the door, but Qui-Gon knew that even with the Force suggestion he could not. 

* * *

Just past sunset, his door chimed, and Plo Koon entered. To Plo's surprise, Qui-Gon was washed and dressed in his formal attire and best cloak. Plo nodded to his old friend, and gestured towards the door. Clearly struggling with himself, Qui-Gon stood, drew up his hood, and left with him. 

They arrived at the bare stone room containing Obi-Wan's funeral pyre, and Qui-Gon realized the large room was full of fellow Jedi, who drew to a respectful distance when he entered. The gathering consisted of his own friends, who he'd completely ignored these past months, and many of Obi-Wan's age mates. The chamber was open to the night sky, lit only by a torch bracketed on the wall at the head of the pyre. His own Master had seen to everything. 

Qui-Gon stepped up to the pyre upon which Obi-Wan's body was arranged. He could see the small offerings his friends had placed there. Holopics, flowers, trinkets, even several leaves from a Gellan vine – all these acted as mementos to a life whose service was long, yet only starting. To a man who did not give friendship easily, but whose friendship was unshakable once given. 

He drew the soft, blue silk robe from beneath his coarse brown one, and covered the still form with the brilliant material. There was only one thing left to do, and he could feel the gazes of the assembled upon him. He must perform this next act of the ceremony himself, but felt frozen in place. A touch on his hand, and he turned his head, then looked down, to see Healer Marlisen. It broke him from his inaction, and he took the torch from its bracket and touched it to the pyre, which flamed to life with ferocity. The touch on his hand now gripped it and pulled back gently, and Qui-Gon realized he was standing much too close to the flames. He stepped back, placing the torch once more in the holder. 

He couldn't stand to watch the immolation, and stood instead with his eyes closed, remembering the Obi-Wan of those last moments of their joining, strong and confident. _I will survive this. I will honor his last wish. I know what is at stake. There is no death..._

When he opened his eyes, the pyre had burnt down, and the assembled crowd were leaving alone or in small groups, holding each other. Yoda walked up to him and he knelt to the old Master, who laid a hand on his knee. He felt some of the weariness he'd carried this day retreat at the touch, and mumbled his thanks. Mace was next, and Qui-Gon stood and faced the Councilor, who acted as if he didn't know if his touch would be welcome, considering the last exchange they'd had regarding Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon extended his hand and Mace clasped it with relief, pulling him into a light hug. Several other council members, including his old friend Adi Gallia who'd known Obi-Wan ever since he'd become Qui-Gon's apprentice, also held him close and murmured their sympathies. 

Obi-Wan's friends soon followed, and Qui-Gon was somehow able to offer his own condolences to their tear-stained faces. At last they were all gone except a tall figure near the chamber's entrance. Master Nasank Tijj. He bowed deeply to Qui-Gon, then left. Qui-Gon sat vigil, as was his right and his obligation, until the morning light streamed into the top of the chamber. He'd never before considered the similarities of this room to the ancient Great Hall, or the ceremonies they both bore silent witness to. He had no more mental energy with which to consider it now, and it seemed that his soul was as lifeless as the ashes that lay on the pyre. 

Walking from the room with his sooty hood drawn, Qui-Gon was surprised to see Marli waiting for him in the hallway. She turned without speaking and walked beside him to his rooms. There she took his cloak and clothing -- which smelled of the pyre and would be disposed of -- as he stripped without embarrassment, and waited until he'd bathed and crawled into bed with the last of his energy. Qui-Gon dimly remembered that custom allowed a fellow Jedi to watch over the first sleep of the bereaved – but the custom was reserved for the living member of a bonded couple. Marli placed her hand on his forehead and he slept and did not dream. 

* * *

Three weeks later, a thin, gaunt, but determined Qui-Gon walked to the Initiates' wing. It was his first foray out of his rooms since Obi-Wan's funeral. Various friends had brought him food and supplies, and talked with him or simply sat for a few quiet minutes with him. They seemed to have a network, knowing when to come with more food, and when to insist that he eat. He realized only now how much Obi-Wan's life had touched others, and how much the Temple had to offer him if he could only look beyond his own sorrow. 

He followed the Force to a specific playgroup, the way he'd followed it into Watto's shop those many months before. Anakin turned from his playmates almost immediately, and he trotted over to the Master, who took a seat on a nearby bench. 

"Hi Master Qui-Gon, sir. Master Yoda said you might come by. I heard about Obi-Wan, and I'm real sorry." 

Qui-Gon sighed inwardly. He might have known. "And what else did Master Yoda tell you?" he asked gently. 

"He said that Obi-Wan changed his mind and thought that I should be trained, and that he told you that **you** should train me before he died - that he waited to tell you that." 

Qui-Gon could only nod. After a moment he controlled himself enough to ask, "anything else, Ani?" It came out as a croak. 

"Yessir." 

Ani looked down, inspected the hem of his tunic, then sighed and raised those ice-blue eyes to Qui-Gon again. 

"He said that he couldn't make you train me and that you may not want to because you are so sad. He said he would take me as his Padawan if you didn't. In another **year** or so." 

Qui-Gon didn't miss the distress in the child's voice at the thought of an entire year passing without a Master. A year to a child must seem an eternity. Qui-Gon had made him wait most of an eternity already. 

"When 800 years old you are, short one year will seem." Ani looked up in surprise and smiled at Qui-Gon's quite accurate imitation. 

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon," he giggled, not wholly convinced. 

"But you needn't wait, Anakin. I would be honored to take you as my Padawan Learner. If you are still willing to have me as your Master, that is." 

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes Sir! You bet I will!" and the boy threw himself onto Qui-Gon with a hug. Qui-Gon returned the hug and stroked his blond hair. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Children anger and forgive quickly. The stress he'd felt in the Force only a minute ago when he began talking with Anakin was completely gone, and hope filled its place. Oh, it would hurt to create a bond with another Padawan, just as it hurt Anakin to leave his mother and come to this strange place. But perhaps they could heal together. 

* * *

Epilogue 

Anakin Skywalker stood at the base of the Temple's northeast tower and stared up. And up. The Tower of Remembrance was where the Jedi entombed the ashes of their dead Knights and Masters. This tower was a place where any Jedi could trace their "lineage" from Master to Master, back some 3000 years, when the base of the modern Temple was first erected on Coruscant. 

The circular stairway ringed the walls in a slow spiral up, and alcoves off the stairway each held a dozen or so crypts that contained ashes, a marker, and a small space where flowers, pictures and other mementos could be placed. 

Any being fit enough was required to start at the bottom of the tower, and walk past thousands of Knights and Masters who'd dedicated their lives to the Order to get to the marker they came to see. 

Anakin walked at a slow, respectful, but steady pace up the stairs, with his hands properly folded in the sleeves of his black cloak. It took him an hour to climb to the level he sought, and his knees ached. _I'm getting closer to this place myself every year,_ he thought ruefully. There was yet another turn of the spiral stairs above this level with alcoves and crypts, even though his Master had only been here a week. 

Qui-Gon had lived a long and healthy life, bedridden only the last week of it with the Therklein flu, which did not respond to medication. He lived long enough to hold Leia's newborn twins, and on the last night of his life, he told Anakin the complete story of Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the sacrifice he had made so that Qui-Gon could be Anakin's Master. 

Though Qui-Gon never had the chance to have a formal Bonding ceremony, when the Tower Master had entombed Obi-Wan's ashes, she'd left the crypt beside his empty. Qui-Gon made sure Ani knew where he was to be placed. 

Now Anakin stood before the two markers and laughed out loud in surprise, the sound echoing in the quiet tower. The space above Obi-Wan's crypt was filled with stones – dozens of them, some plain and unfinished, some polished and beautiful. They were stacked haphazardly on one another, and threatened to spill over. Placed there when? He remembered regular disappearances of his Master when he was a Padawan. Were these stones gifts for every naming day, every Knighting anniversary? 

Anakin reached into his cloak and removed the opallios necklace that Qui-Gon had given to him the night of his death as he told Obi-Wan's story. Even before the story was complete, Ani knew the Force energy mingled with the gem's signature wasn't that of his Master; knew right away who the source of that energy was. 

It didn't feel right to let the gem be destroyed when his Master was immolated, but it also didn't feel right to keep it. Thus he was here to return the gem to its proper owner. 

"Obi-Wan," he said softly, "Qui-Gon never had another after you – but I guess you know that. He told me everything of your last meeting with him on the last night of his life. He loved me and mine well, and together we were able to defeat the Sith. 

"Thank you, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

He draped the chain over the edge of Obi-Wan's marker plaque, and watched the gem's myriad colors sparkle in the sunlight from the Tower's clear-domed top. He placed a holopic of his family on top of Qui-Gon's crypt. As he turned to go, the corner of his robe brushed the stones, making the pile shift shift. A smile lit his handsome, weathered features. 

"Oh, and Obi-Wan, you should've known better than to dare our Master about the rocks." 

He began the long descent. 

The End. 

* * *

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